


A Royal Encounter

by ThrombicModulator



Category: British Royalty RPF
Genre: Drunkenness, Gen, Horror, Late Night Conversations, RPF, Random Encounters, Royalty, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:42:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23214973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrombicModulator/pseuds/ThrombicModulator
Summary: A drunken walk home becomes an unusual encounter with royalty...
Kudos: 7





	A Royal Encounter

It was almost 1:00am as I dribbled my way out of my local pub, possibly for the last time. The last time until all this virus stuff was done with, anyway. I felt alarmingly tipsy, despite having only had a few ales. Oh, and those two glasses of wine. And no dinner, come to think of it... Oh well! The next few hours were bound to be awful. I had to get home, and to bed.

I could feel my feet lightly scuffing the ground as I walked. My heavy limbs felt particularly clumsy. Nevertheless, I successfully lurched my way round a corner and into the dark alleyway I had walked a thousand times before. Ricocheting off the chain-link fence, I came to notice the distant outline of a tall man in the alleyway. 'Oh god', I thought. 'Am I about to be mugged!?'  
“Oh, fuck off” I uttered quietly under my breath, making sure not to anger the man. I didn't want any trouble. The booze was now starting to get the better of me, and I felt on the verge of being sick.

As he grew closer, the man piped up, “Move, you.... You.... Hmm?”  
The elderly voice seemed nonsensical and confused. What was he on about? It was clear at this stage that I wasn't going to be mugged by this doddering oaf, so I threw caution to the wind.  
“What're you chatting about, old fella?”  
At that moment, he moved into a rare patch of orange street light, and I recognised him instantly. It was Prince Philip! Holy shit! I wasn't hugely fussed about the Royals, generally, but Philip was in a trashy magazine article about celebrities with possible 'racist tendencies' I'd seen the week before. What was he doing here? Shouldn't he be asleep in a palace or something?  
“Er, hello, your majesty! Where's your entourage? Is the Queen around here somewhere?” My flippant mood now clearly getting the better of me.  
We now stood facing each other. For a moment we both remained silent. Evidently this wasn't normal for either of us!  
“I've lost my helicopter” The elderly Prince eventually said. His grimace was so deep he somewhat resembled the Emperor from Star Wars. A bit thinner though, and clearly not one with the Force.  
Philip continued... “Are you an immigrant?”  
“Bloody hell, that trashy article was right!” I drunkenly slurred out without thinking.  
“How dare you! You beastly little shit!” he replied. “I can do all sorts to you, you peasant! Move away!” With that he shoved me. Right in the belly. To one in my state, that was unwise, releasing as it did a torrent of booze-induced vomit the like of which I hadn't seen since earlier that week when my mate Barry suffered the wrath of an ill-judged kebab.

When my spluttering torrent finally ceased, I looked up to see the consequences. I expect the Prince's suit had been quite nice and valuable a few moments previously, but now it was little more than a dripping wet mess of vomit, with a pair of angry eyes beaming at me from the face above.

This is not how I thought this walk home was going to go! Despite none of this being my fault, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd done something wrong, and thought it best to make myself scarce before the Duke of Edinburgh's entourage inevitably caught up with him, and me. I squirmed my way past him, making sure to not touch the Prince's vomity suit, and trotted my way down the alleyway. I actually felt much better since vomiting. A weight had certainly been lifted, and I came to realise that perhaps I should be thankful to the old guy for helping me in my time of need.  
“Lovely to have met you, Philip!” I called back down the alleyway.  
To my surprise, however, the alleyway was now empty. He can't possibly have made it to the end already! Where'd he got to? In the midst of this thought I felt a cold 'drip drip' on my forehead from above, and slowly looking up, I saw him... 

Illuminated by cold moonlight was an almost skeletal frame suspended in the air, some two meters above me. What was once an expensive suit was now a crude assembly of tattered rags, still dripping with my own bodily fluids. Where previously there had been an elderly man's frail face, there was now a terrible dusty visage accented with slender fangs around a gaping maw. The deep-set eyes were oily black, and full of hate. I felt my insides roll, and my sanity break. It was a terrible sight. Hateful, but most of all _real_. To exist in a world where this is truly possible was... unfathomable! My world was broken.

The figure descended slowly towards me. I tried to move, but was fixed in place, either by fear or some supernatural force wielded by this terrible spectre, which now raised its bony arms out towards my face. With a trembling precision, the long fingers found their marks around my temples. Cold, sharp pains suddenly smashed through my skull as a chilling shriek seemed to emit from whatever evil spirit inhabited this monstrous body. The pain and the shriek became as one, and as the last ounce of sanity left my mind I knew that Prince Philip's secret would never be revealed. Not to a living soul.

End

**Author's Note:**

> The result of a friendly challenge based on the scenario of encountering Prince Philip in a dark alleyway.


End file.
